


The Student's Whim

by candlelight27



Series: University AU [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Fluff and Smut, NSFW, Porn with Feelings, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut, Student!Ivar, Teacher!Reader, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vikings, ivar - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight27/pseuds/candlelight27
Summary: Ivar, your student, wants much more than simple academic attention.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First, Ivar is not underage in this fanfic.  
> That being said, enjoy this as much as you can! This was a whim I had... I can't say much more. It's pure smut :)

You were grading the essays you received last week. The topic was of free choice, but a particular one caught your eye last night, leading you to calling into your office the student who wrote it. A strong knock on your door stole your attention from some understandable lines.

“Please, come in.” You said in a loud voice.

His face was a familiar one, perpetually banished in the dark corners of the classroom. He stared at you as he used to do when you were teaching your lessons. You felt a little uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze, but quickly dismissed it. He was a simple student, wasn’t he?

“Did you want to talk to me, professor [Last Name]?” 

“Yes, Ivar. Please, take a seat.” He did as you told, placing his crutches against your desk. From your briefcase you took his essay and handed it to him. “I read it last night.”

“What’s the problem with it?” He didn’t look confused, but amused.

“I’d like to...” You gulped. This brat always made you nervous. “I’d like to know what bibliography you used.” He nodded. 

“Something else?” 

“Why did you choose this particular topic?”

“It’s very interesting.”

“Of course. Viking rituals and sacrifices is always a very popular subject...” You didn’t know how to put your thoughts into words. “But you have focused it on... Well, my others students take it lightly. You were pretty graphic in your descriptions.”

“I like being attentive to details.” He saw the rest of papers. He clearly saw the red ink his didn’t display. “Did you like it?”

“Your essay? Yes, it was well written.”

“No. Did you  _enjoy_  it, last night?” He leant towards you. “Did you think of me when you were reading it?”

“Ivar, what are you implying?”

“Did you touch yourself last night, professor [Last Name]?” He moved his jaws in a teasing manner. You couldn’t believe your ears; the shock must have been visible upon your face.

“As your teacher, you shouldn’t address those matters-” You tried, but your voice betrayed you. He sensed the weakness in you.

“Did it turn you on? The blood I mentioned? How people spread it on their bodies, drank it…” You were about to speak, but Ivar stopped you with a sharp gesture. His eyes were becoming darker. “I read somewhere about sex in those situations. Can you picture it? I’m sure you’d love it. Having a hand covered in blood teasing your cunt, or maybe you’d prefer a raw cock…” He licked his teeth, observing you, his prey. “I was thinking about you _all the time_ , professor.”

“Ivar, stop immediately or I’ll take disciplinary actions against you.” You stood up and said in an authoritative tone, but he could see right through the lie.

“Are you going to spank me?”

A blush crept to your cheeks, but just before you could muster strength to say something the door was opened. It was a fellow professor, with whom you shared a few classes.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had visit.”

“It’s okay, Harald. He’s already dismissed…”

Ivar grabbed his crutches and stood up while holding your stare. He had a smug grin. Before he disappeared through the door, he talked to you once again.

“I’ll get the biography as soon as possible.”

When he was out of reach, Harald sat in front of you, his own stack of essays under his arm. Your heart beat fast, your breath was quick and you were sure your face was still red. Your mind raced replaying all that Ivar had said. You felt powerless. How could you, being in the dominant position?

“Are you feeling well, [Name]?” Your colleague asked, confused.

“Ye-yes.” You had forgotten he was there. “But could we… postpone the meeting?”

“Of course.” You left your chair.

“I have Ivar in one class. He can be difficult.” He said, a hearty laugh sliding from his lips. “You just have to be rough and he will behave.” You nodded and went right away to find somewhere outside; you needed fresh air.

You sighed. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find your student handsome or that he hadn’t turned you on in your office. In fact he had been correct; a cup of wine in hand, you read the words he wrote with a special kind of interest, one that soon turned into arousal. However you were in a very delicate situation; you couldn’t afford giving him cue of any kind.

 

* * *

 

The next morning you were solved to cut from root any interaction with Ivar. You’d be rough, as Harald had instructed you. It was your duty to maintain a strictly professional relationship with each of your pupils.

You crossed the door of the classroom. As you greeted everyone, you took a look around. His face, as always, was at the end. His gaze was fixed upon yours.

You started talking about Nordic mythology. You were pretty confident about this topic and the words flowed easily out of your mouth. Someone would ask a question from time to time. You tried not to focus on Ivar, because you knew you’d grow nervous. And you were right.

At the moment you set your eyes on him, his smirk grew. He licked his lips slowly, challenging. You got lost in your speech. You continued without much problem, until he moved. You were bound to observe him again. This time you could clearly see his hand going to his crotch. He palmed himself through the fabric of his palms. You couldn’t believe he was so insolent.

He kept going, and forming sentences was becoming more difficult.

Fortunately, the bell rang. You gave back the essays and the students left the classroom. You went to the desk to gather your things and go to your office. Your plan had been avoiding Ivar to the extent possible.  But you weren’t going to be lucky with your expectations.

“Professor, did you enjoy the show?”

“Ivar, if you keep this up I’m going to inform the dean.”

He was standing with the help of his crutches. A bulge was clear on his trousers.

“Oh, no. You are not going to.”

“Are you ordering me-”

“No. But you like this.” He moved towards you and you took a step back.

“Ivar, this is wrong.”

“Oh? You didn’t deny it. It’s a good start.”

“No. I deny it. I don’t like-”

“Too late.” He approached more. His muscles flexed under his shirt, strong of holding his weigh all the time. He was moving his sharp jaws out of habit. “After our last conversation I’ve been thinking… I don’t know if I’d like to spank you or to be spanked.”

“What?”

“Oh, you know… You are the professor. You are in charge here. But I’m sure you’d be a wonderful submissive.”

“Ivar, stop…” You whispered. He was already so close you could feel the warmth of his body. Your back couldn’t go further; it was pressed against the wall.

“I’d bend you over your desk.” He put his crutches on your sides, caging you. You shut your eyes. “Then I’d lift that skirt of yours you are so fond of…” A chuckle escaped him. “And I’d have a feast on that behind you have. What should I do after?” His breath was on your neck, which sent a shiver down your spine. “Should I tease you until you are begging? Or should I fuck you until the only think you can think of is me?”

His tongue traced the soft skin of your throat. It was hot and wet; a firm line from your clavicle to your earlobe. Your breath hitched. You heard something hit the ground and all of sudden you felt a hand on your breast. He kneaded it throughout, making you pant.

“Ivar… please…”

“Keep talking, professor [Last Name]. I like your begging…”

“I can’t do this.” He pinched your nipple and you release a high-pitched noise.

“Would you preferred it was Sigurd in my place?”

“Your brother?” You were clueless. He seemed to ignore your question and pinched harder. “Ivar!”

“I heard he’s your favourite. That you like his poetry.”

“It has nothing to do with attraction, Ivar. It’s purely academic.”

“Well, you managed to get me jealous anyways.” He pressed his hand against your other breast. His words were now whispered in your ear, as if it was a secret. “I know you desired me, but your love for my brother had blinded you. This is your punishment. I should have taken matters in hand before…”

“Ivar, I’m telling you. You are my student, I can’t give you…”

“You are already mine, professor.”

He released you and you whimpered. You shirt was scruffy, the skin it showed was blushed. Ivar, in full possession of his walking aid, distances himself prudently. He turned serious; nothing of his flirty demeanour could be seen. You frowned, uncertain of what was happening.

“I’ve got the bibliography.” You made a questioning noise. “Do you want _me_ to hand it over _personally_? In your office?” He swallowed saliva in a nervous manner; you never thought it had been possible.

After all he had done, it was as if he was asking permission now. As if he would be forever gone with a command. Even so, the confidence was useless at that point. You were doomed.

“Yes, Ivar. I want you.”

“When?”

“None should be around at lunch time.”

He smiled. You didn’t know how to take it anymore. He left, the thuds of his crutches on the floor accompanying him everywhere he went. You attempted to fix your appearance, with relative success, and made sure not a soul had witnessed the exchange you had with your student. You swore you could hear Harald laughing at you somewhere, more at your squirming than anything else. It was something he’d sure would do.

 

* * *

 

You were sat in your office, hands over your face in shame. You wanted him, much more than you had initially realized. But guilt overpowered you at the same time. It was wrong and you couldn’t help but think it was your own fault.

Of course there was a way back. The problem was that you desired whatever was going to happen. And you would welcome it with open arms.

A strong knock irrupt your thoughts. It was Ivar.

He didn’t wait for your answer, instead he slip through and locked the door behind him. He didn’t move, unsure of what to do. You neared him, taking his hand in yours. In the other he had a scribbled sheet of paper. He abandoned it on the first surface he could.

Following you had not being easy due to his troubles of movement. His hand was sweaty, a sign that proved he was not as sure as he looked. You stopped at the table and leant on edge while he just stared at you. He was breathing heavily.

At last he kissed you. His lips were soft upon yours, and you loved the feeling. At first they were barely smooches, brief movements. He was scared you would flee. When you answered, pressing harder, he composed a tender smile. He freed one of his limbs and placed his fingers on your cheek. He caressed it as the kiss grew more passionate.

He bite your bottom lip enough to draw a pearl of blood. He grunted at the taste. You moaned too, his actions lighting a fire in you. His eager mouth was devouring yours.

He leant back to admire his work; your lips were red and brushed. He kissed you again, yet now he let his tongue dominate. It found yours and greeted it slowly. Your saliva mixed with his; his taste was overwhelming. Never had you felt so hot from a simple kiss.

His hand commanded you impossibly closer. His nose brushed your cheek and your chests touched. Even if he was being gentle, you felt dirty. His lips had encircled your tongue and he was sucking it. He was greedily taking whatever he wanted from your mouth. Whilst he was getting rougher you just could let him have his way.

He stopped. He was enjoying having you writhe just from his mouth, but he was growing impatient; he wanted to see much more. Due to the delight you had showed in the classroom, he decided he’d mimic his performance.

He let his tongue wander your neck. He insisted on a particular point which had your hips shot up towards him. He grazed his teeth over it leaving a tickling sensation. He then bit and sucked, leaving a bruise that would be hard to conceal. But you didn’t care, at least not while he was pleasuring you as much as he was.

His fingers found the buttons of your shirt. He undid the first.

“I’ve been dreaming of this. How you would react when I undressed you…” He purred seductively. He didn’t waste a second and attacked your exposed clavicle. He left a lovebite there too, one that had you shivering.

He left a trail of kisses, untucked your shirt from your skirt and took it off from you, enjoying your revealed bra. His pupils were dilated with lust.

“You are just better than any dream.”

He didn’t even bother to unclasp your underwear; he just popped your breast out of the cups with his hands. He knead one and licked the other, flicking his tongue in a torturing manner. He traced sloppy circles with his tongue around your areola. He avoided your nipple on purpose to drive you crazy. Your hips bucked against his whenever he got closer. His fingers had started copying his mouth. Just before you protested, he bit the peak, as he rolled the other. You left a strangled whimper, bolts of pleasure travelling all your body. He continued, dedicated, and switched to your left to repeat the same.

He straightened his back. You reached forwards, since you wanted to touch him, yet he stopped you. Ivar clicked his tongue.

“Today I’m in charge of this, my dear professor. We’ll see next time how you can return the favour.”

“Next time?”

“Of course. Did you think you’d be able to escape me after this?”

He turned you around, but he was tender. It didn’t match his personality, so you took a risk.

“Ivar, I’m not a porcelain doll, I’m not going to break.”

“Oh? You like it rough?”

“Maybe…”

Your torso lied on your desk, your arse right in front of your student. Ivar touched your thighs under your skirt, massaging the flesh, grabbing all he could. He lifted the hem.

“What do we have here?”

He took the last piece of underwear you had left and pushed it down. You were completely bare for him, vulnerable to his likings, but you didn’t enjoy your position any less. He stroke your cheeks from the bottom to the top. Even though it wasn’t something new to you, Ivar was refreshing, trying to focus all his might in his actions. You didn’t know why he was commited but who were you to stop him?

His thumbs were creeping towards your aching core. Your voice was melting, your moans a constant between the walls of your office.

“I will need a little help here, professor [Last Name].” You could hear the playful tone. “You have to tell me what you want me to do.”

His nails scratched you. The pad of his fingers were dangerously close to your folds.

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Push something…”

He smacked your right cheek enough to make you yelp.

“Push your fingers inside, please!”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

He tapped your opening with his palm. Ivar hummed content with your reactions. He slid inside you his thumb. He was in you and you couldn’t think of anything else. His presence overwhelmed you; he was feeling every inch of wetness he could reach. He took away his thumb and replaced it with his index and his ring finger.

Ivar pumped them in a steady pace. He brushed a spot deep in you that made you scream. Observing your reaction, he abused that sweet place, pressing it over and over and over. Without any other warning, like the first, he spanked you with his free hand.

Your orgasm was forming; each time his fingers went in and out, you were going to reach it. But he removed them.

“Do you want anything else?” He smacked you to emphasize his words. You didn’t answer, therefor he rubbed your bundle of nerves. “So?”

“I want your cock.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

You heard the slip of his zip. You weren’t facing him, so you didn’t know what he was doing. He pinched your backside and twisted the flesh. He earned a bark of pain he loved, so he stung your skin one more time. He left a slap on the same place, but the teasing was nerve racking.

“I swear that if you don’t-”

He shut you up by entering you. It was slow; you could feel all his length. The head of his manhood, hot and already damp with excitement, opened its way in you. Your walls hugged him with force until he joined his hips with yours.

You whimpered at the fullness. Ivar, who hadn’t had the chance of being loud, was now a moaning mess. You smiled to yourself at this. Your hips moved on its own, encouraging your lover to keep going. He pulled back only to immerse himself in you. His thrusts were tentative in the beginning; he was exploring his boundaries.

Once he created a rhythm he was satisfied with, he searched for that sweet spot he had found. He angled his hips with each push. You just took in the immediate friction, rotating your hips. Every time your bodies met you were one step closer to ecstasy.

He managed to find it. When he did, he concentrated on ravishing that special spot. He reached around with his hand. In a hurry, probably because his own end was arriving like a lightning, he took your clitoris in his fingers and rubbed it. In that moment, you lost it, waves of electric pleasure washing over your whole body. He grunted your name with so much desire and force you thought you might have been able to come again.

His shoves became weaker until he finally moved away.

He landed on a chair, not forgetting you in the process. He pulled you by one arm and sat you on his lap. He kissed the marks he had left on your neck, and left a sweet bite on your cheek. This elicited a giggle from you. You were openly smiling at each other in your post-coital bliss, your hands caressing his clothed chest as he played with your hair.

“Do you regret it?” He asked, yet he didn’t look anxious about your answer.

“No.” Even then something was bothering you. “But what are we going to do now?”

“Don’t worry. I’m graduating in less than a month.”

“Couldn’t you have waited?” You laughed. He was an impatient man, you knew that yourself.

“I was going to… until I head Sigurd talk about how much you liked everything he did.” You poked his nose and he grimaced at your gesture. “I’m still amazed at how my aggressive method has worked its charms.”

“Shut up, Ivar.” You nestled between his arms. “You are going to be a lot of trouble in my life.”

“And in your class.”

“Don’t you dare. This must be a secret.” He squeezed your body lovingly.

“I know, [Name]. Trust me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just think about it; Harald as a teacher. Actually I'm sure he had an affair with a student too. More than one possibly.


End file.
